


La Grande Mort

by sistabro



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Asexual Character, Asexuality, Community: salt_burn_porn, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-20
Updated: 2012-09-20
Packaged: 2017-11-14 15:39:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/516913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sistabro/pseuds/sistabro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean was the one that got away once, but Tessa isn't going to let that happen this time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	La Grande Mort

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [La Grande Mort](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5940091) by [gemoprod](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gemoprod/pseuds/gemoprod)



> Written for the [salt_burn_porn](http://salt_burn_porn.livejournal.com) 2012 challenge for [embroiderama's](http://embroiderama.livejournal.com) prompt _the scraps of love you throw my way_. Thanks to [13chapters](http://13chapters.livejournal.com) for the beta and encouragement!
> 
> This story describes sex from the POV of an asexual character. I am not asexual, so if I got it wrong, my apologies; the 24 hour deadline did not leave any time for research. :/ I am very open to discussion and criticism if others are comfortable offering it.

The last time they meet is an echo of the first. Dean is leaning against the doorjamb of a hospital room, barefoot and in scrubs. He only has eyes for Sam, dozing in the chair beside the hospital bed holding Dean's empty body, but the tap of his fingers against his arm in time to the steady wheeze of the ventilator keeping him alive betrays his restlessness. He's never handled idleness well, so she doesn't keep him waiting.

"Dean," she says quietly, not wanting to startle him, and slides into the form he'll find familiar a few steps behind him.

"Hey, Tessa," he replies. His gaze lingers on Sam for a moment longer before he turns to face her, offering up a sad smile. "I was hoping it would be you."

"As if I'd trust anyone else with the job," Tessa says, moving closer. "You're a slippery one, Dean." 

The smile slips into a smirk. "The one that got away?" 

She laughs, echos upon echos, the full circle come around. "Are you making a move on me?" 

She raises a hand to cup his cheek fondly and he leans into her palm helplessly, eyes drifting shut on a sigh. She wonders when the last time anyone touched him just because they wanted to, just to let him know he wasn't alone. 

Too long, Tessa decides, and kisses him.

Surprise makes Dean freeze for a moment, but then his mouth opens beneath her lips hungrily, shamelessly. She lets him take the lead and changes the sandbox around them to a more appropriate setting, the hospital replaced by a simple dim room with a bed mere steps away and nothing but the sounds of them. She gets rid of their clothes too and presses her body against his.

He clutches at her, buries his face into her neck and holds tight, fingers pressing into her imaginary flesh as she rubs his back soothingly. Such a lonely, horrible life he's led since she first touched him all those years ago. Tessa can feel the wounds it's left upon him, deep tears and edges rubbed raw and places hollowed out entirely. It is strange to know that some part of his hurt is because of her failure then, for not being good enough or quick enough to get him through to safety.

She has never left a mark on the world like that before, been able to see her part in events rippling outward, spreading like a plague. She doesn't like it, stepping outside of her place here in the after where she stands as a doorway for people to walk through or not as they choose, offering comfort and counsel to those who will take it. 

Dean is ready this time, long past ready to walk through to the end. But there is still time yet before he goes, and for her small part in his pain, Tessa wants to make these last moments a time of reprieve, a balm for his loneliness presented in a way that he'll be able to accept and enjoy.

So when his trembling eases, she draws him into another kiss and runs her fingers across his skin as she's seen so many do over the endless years. When Dean begins to respond, hands loosening their grip to wander and caress, teeth and tongue slipping into the kiss, she urges him backwards, one step two, until the edge of the bed presses against his calves. He keeps them there a moment, finishes up the kiss with a playful nip at her bottom lip, before pulling back to look her in the face.

"Are you sure, Tessa?" he asks, already guarding himself against the rejection he seems to feel is inevitable. 

"Yes, I'm sure," Tessa answers truthfully. And because she's never lied to him once he knew her nature, he believes her, tension sliding free from his shoulders. But he's still confused, knows that this isn't how reapings are supposed to go, so she elaborates. She doesn't want his doubts to spoil her gift. "We have history, Dean. You see me and call me by name. You _know_ me. That's an impossible thing for a reaper, a gift that won't ever happen again after today." She lays her hand over his heart, body and words speaking together: "So, yes, Dean, I'm sure so long as you are."

"I'm sure," Dean answers with a pleased grin, tilting his hips towards her so she can feel his erection against her belly in case she had any doubts. Tessa smiles back and he takes that an invitation for another kiss as he eases them down onto the bed.

Tessa lets him take the lead, has to really. She is not built for desire, has no instinct or pleasure to guide her, no roadmap but what she has witnessed reaping people in the act. Reproduction and all its trappings are things for the living--the very definition of life perhaps--and the antithesis to her nature as death. She barely remembers to modify her form in time so it is appropriately moist when Dean trails one hand down her body to finger at her clitoris. 

She sighs and squirms like she feels she ought, but draws his hand back up to her breasts as soon as she can. Tessa does her best to hide that she is completely unaroused because she knows Dean will think it's his fault. That she is just letting him use her body as a pity fuck when that isn't the case at all.

The caress of his hand, tracing over her bones like she's precious. The entirety of his attention as he licks circles around her nipples, first one and then the other. The way he gasps her name over and over as he pushes into her, like it's impossible to keep from his lips. The grasp of his hands on her body as if he can't bear to let her go. The hard heat of his dick inside of her, each thrust a declaration that she is really there, that she is seen and felt and _known_. That some being has marked her passing through these worlds, has cared enough to want to touch her and claim her and bring her pleasure. Tessa has never felt anything like it before, close and warm and _connected_ , firmly grounded in the world and in herself. 

So she kisses him and runs her hands across the scarred expanse of his skin and does her best to fake it because she doesn't want it to stop. Knows he doesn't either because she can feel the lonely hollow ache in him filling up with her. But nothing lasts forever. Tessa knows that better than anyone. And when his thrusts become erratic, fast and urgent and heralding the end, she kisses him on the cheek in benediction and whispers in his ear: "Goodbye, Dean."

"Tessa," Dean gasps out one last time before his orgasm takes him. La petite mort sliding smoothly into la grande mort as Tessa takes him too, the white hot surge of his soul passing through her a pleasure in its own right. 

She gives herself a moment to mourn him; it is another thing she isn't built for, but she tries. There's no one left but Sam to do so and Dean deserves better than that. When Tessa opens her eyes again, she is dressed and standing by Dean's hospital bed, the machines singing their death song while Sam runs for the door, shouting for help. 

Tessa ignores him--Sam's got decades left before their paths will cross again--and steps up to the bed. Lets herself have one last look to shore up her memory against the ravages of eternity. 

"Goodby, Dean," she says after a moment, smiling a little. "It looks like I finally caught you this time." 

She bends down to softly kiss his cooling lips and disappears.


End file.
